The Way of a Tyrant Page 5

  A small silence followed before Scott asked why she was up so early. She wanted to see the sunrise, she told him, and his brows lifted a fraction as he pointed out that the sun had already risen.

  'While we were speaking,' she agreed and, turning her head, she looked towards the hills. 'My friends will have a wonderful view,' she said mechanically. 'They'll see the sun come up from the edge of the sea.'

  'Your friends…' He became thoughtful. 'Mr. and Mrs. Shore. I was informed by my man Spender that it was David Shore who recommended your husband for the post of manager here?'

  'Yes, that's right.'

  Again that thoughtful mood possessed him.

  'Have you and your husband known the Shores very long?'

  She became alert. If ever Scott should discover the truth then David would undoubtedly be in trouble; this Jane had already concluded and now she spoke with caution as she replied,

  'We were friends in England, but we haven't seen one another for three years, until we came out here just over a week ago, that is.'

  A strange expression crossed his face momentarily. He seemed amused by his reflections, but when at last he spoke she learned nothing of these thoughts.

  'Are you walking, Jane—or are you returning to the hotel?' The abrupt change of conversation, while sur­prising, also afforded her immeasurable relief, since she surely would have floundered had Scott continued to talk about the Shores. That he should have so abruptly changed the subject did not strike her as significant at this time; later, she was to think about it… and learn the reason for it.

  'I was intending taking a walk,' she answered, feel­ing awkward now and instantly regretting her words. She should have said she was returning to the hotel as then she could have escaped from him. To be with him was by far too dangerous; she was so terribly afraid of saying something which might arouse his suspicions re­garding her relationship with the manager of the hotel.

  'Then we'll walk together.' The firm decision held no surprise for Jane; she had known he would suggest just that. 'The beach,' he said, beginning to stroll towards it. 'I find the sea at this time of the day be­witching as a beautiful woman.' Laughter edged his words and she frowned suddenly. This man was not nearly so attractive as the Scott she had once known, she decided, immediately astounded that she should now be admitting to Scott's former attractiveness. But she could not help recalling, as she strolled along beside him on the pale gold sands, that day when he proposed to her. His voice and manner were so very gentle; he was like a young boy, not quite sure of himself yet sure of what he wanted, which was to have Jane for his wife. Twenty-six, and no experience of women. Unique, she thought, and fell to wondering how many women he'd had since that day. 'You're quiet, Jane.' His voice interrupted her reflections and she looked up into his handsome face. The lines she did not like were plain today—they branded him a cynic, a man of the world whose experience of women had bred contempt for them, and the resolution never to marry. Jane found herself swallowing a little lump in her throat. She alone was responsible for this incredible change, just as her brother had intimated… and she was not in the least proud of herself.

  'I was thinking,' she murmured at length when, with a raising of his brows, he silently reminded her that he was waiting for her response to his words.

  'About what?'

  She shrugged and hoped it appeared to be a careless gesture.

  'All sorts of things.'

  'Non-committal, eh?' They were under a clump of coconut palms and he stopped, tall and a trifle over­powering, because of his height and his air of confidence and superiority, and because she was very conscious of the fact that he was her employer, and not the man who had wanted her for his wife. It was a strange, unreal situation in which she found herself, a situation she would not soon forget, since her pulses were racing and something quivered in the region of her heart. She remembered his touch, his kiss, his tender words just a few moments before he had asked her—with such confidence—to marry him. 'Come, Jane, tell me what was occupying your mind for so long.'

  Her head was tilted and suddenly she felt his cool clean breath on her face as he bent, as if he would touch her lips with his own.

  Tingling nerves and confused thoughts; a swift twist of her body that took her some distance from him; blushing cheeks and lips that trembled. Scott seemed fascinated by the picture he saw and for a long, dra­matic moment of silence he stared, unmoving, at her lovely face. Then his lashes came down, masking his expression. She began to walk on again and he fell into step beside her, and after a moment or two the situ­ation was eased and he repeated his question.

  She hesitated, and then, driven by some force beyond her control, she told him candidly that she had been thinking of the change which had taken place in him since those days when they had gone about together.

  'You mentioned this change before,' he reminded her, assuming a rather bored expression. 'I said I hoped it was a change for the better?'

  Jane said nothing for a moment.

  'You've become cynical,' she murmured, and Scott reminded her that she had also said this before.

  'Is there no other change?' he added curiously, his air of boredom replaced by an expectant quality which made Jane stare at him, perplexed. For she had the odd impression that he wanted her to tell him the truth—tell him he was now arrogant and superior and full of self-assurance, in fact, to inform him that he was not in any way the man she had previously known.

  'You're—different,' she stammered, quite unable to pronounce what was in her mind.

  'Change usually does mean difference,' he responded with heavy sarcasm, and he watched the colour rise in her cheeks, continued to stare as she lowered her long eyelashes so that shadows fell on to her face, hiding her expression. 'What is this difference, Jane?'

  She shook her head, her eyes travelling to two dark figures a long way off, running across the beach towards the silent sea. Their hands were clasped; sud­denly the man jerked at the girl's arm and the couple stopped and kissed. Following the direction of her gaze, Scott smiled cynically.

  'Love's young dream,' he murmured almost to him­self. 'One day they'll awake, and wonder what they were about, wasting their time like that.'

  His words hurt, like the prick of a thorn. She looked up at his profile, noting the taut lines, inflexible, stern, hard at this moment to the point of ruthlessness. He was still watching the couple, who were now running again, and only when they entered the water did he bring his eyes back to Jane.

  'They're in love.' She spoke sharply, little knowing she was defending the couple, and in so doing was telling Scott not to be so derisive in his comments.

  Scott ignored this and said,

  'This difference in me on which you've twice com­mented—will you expand a little?'

  His lips were twisted; he was mocking her, playing with her. It was incredible that he could do so… the 'spineless jellyfish' that she had once so foolishly termed him.

  'Is it so important to you that I explain?' she asked.

  He nodded.

  'I'm exceedingly interested.'

  Very well, she thought. He had asked for it. But she did first say,

  'You're my employer—' and he instantly interrupted with,

  'Don't be anxious that I shall retaliate. Haven't I said that your husband will be a valuable asset to the company?'

  'Yes.' Another hesitation and then, looking away so that those keen blue eyes were avoided,

  'You're—arrogant now, and hard, whereas before you were soft and—and gentle…'

  A strange silence followed before he spoke.

  'Experience, my dear,' he said. 'This changes our personalities. There's no room in this world for the man who is gentle and—er—soft, as you term it.'

  Unconsciously she gave a sigh.

  'You were a nicer person then—' Aghast at what she had said, she clipped off her words abruptly, but of course he had caught them and his straight brows lifted a fraction.


  'You didn't consider me nice at the time,' he was swift to remind her, noting her discomfiture and obvi­ously deriving satisfaction from it. 'You had no use for the gentle type, desiring in your husband a mastery that would keep you under, robbing you of a will of your own, reducing you to a mere shadow, a weakling who would follow where you were led. You wanted the type of man who would never allow the word obey to be dropped from the marriage vows.' He was amused now, and the blue eyes reflected this. 'Aren't I right?'

  'You're distorting the whole thing, Scott—Mr.—'

  'Scott will do,' he interrupted softly.

  'You're exaggerating. I merely wanted a man who had strength of character.'

  'And a man who is gentle is, automatically, without strength of character?'

  Distractedly she made a gesture with her hand.

  'You're tying me in knots.'

  The protest passed over him. '

  'No such thing. I'm stating facts, as I saw them.'

  Jane had no more to say. She wanted only to escape and her swift glance at the hotel told him this.

  'Come,' he said, 'let's continue our stroll.' His voice had lightened and she found herself quite unable to keep her thoughts from wandering into forbidden zones… following the path that might have been had she not so impulsively formed an opinion of his charac­ter, resulting in her refusal of his offer of marriage. There would have been children by now, children brought up in this idyllic part of the world ., .

  Was she in love with him, after all? The implications of such a situation hit her with stunning effect. She was 'married' and in any case, Scott was now so disen­chanted with the idea of marriage that he was in­capable of giving love, either to her or anyone else. She mustn't harbour the possibility that she cared—no! Forget the idea ever entered her head, or otherwise she would dwell on it and continue to do so until the day must dawn when she would face up to the truth.

  'I shall have to go back,' she said at length. 'I've work to do.'

  'Work?' He looked down at her. 'I thought you said you hadn't anything much to do?'

  'I usually arrange flowers for the tables, and I like them to be there at breakfast time.'

  'I see. Then I'll not keep you from your duties.' The employer, indifferent, cold, almost; and something contracted within her. 'I shall probably see you at breakfast time.'

  She stood a moment after he had turned and strolled away, and even after she had begun to walk towards the hotel she found herself unable to resist looking back. And again she stopped. Having taken off his slacks and shirt he was standing on the edge of the water, clad in bathing trunks. So he had come out for a swim. As he went into the sea he happened to glance her way, and the colour rushed into her face as she saw in imagination the mocking curve of his mouth. She bit her lip hard, furious with herself for her weakness in standing there, watching him with such apparent interest. The man was too full of his own superiority already without her boosting it by displaying this interest.

  But long after her return to Coral Gables the image of those hard, chiselled features lingered in her mind, causing her at last to admonish herself and forbid any further thought of Scott Kingsley, who was merely her employer—and nothing more.

  The house stood on a small hill overlooking Paradise Beach and was approached by a long drive at the end of which pretty shade trees surrounded a fountain. Arched verandahs, shady, and cooled by the balmy breeze, looked out on to a panoramic view of the coast­line below, a majestic coastline of pale yellow sands fringed with coconut palms.

  Jane had been driven to the house by Scott who, a fortnight previously, having completed the purchase of Driftwood House, had told Jane she was to be his private secretary and would therefore be working at his home. Startled, she pointed out that she had a certain amount of work to do at Coral Gables, but this was waived and the command—yes, it was a command.'—had been repeated. So there was nothing for it but to do as she was told, and now she was to be shown where she would work, in close proximity to the lovely study used exclusively by Scott.

  There had been something most strange about him on that day when, having happened to be bathing at the same time as Jane, he had seemed suddenly to make his decision. He knew of course the nature of her work back in England, so she could not avoid the issue by stating her inability to type and take shorthand notes. Scott had talked to Les about the appointment he was offering to Jane, and later, when Jane and her brother discussed the new and unexpected turn of events Les had looked oddly at her and said,

  'It's very strange indeed. He's actually taking you away from me for the whole of the day—every day except the week-ends, of course,' he added.

  'I agree that it's strange, for as far as he's concerned we're newly married, and to make me go and work for him does seem all wrong.'

  Les nodded.

  'With your being an old flame of his, you mean? Yes, there's something very puzzling about the whole business and I wish I could find an explanation for his action. However, you'll have to go. His word is law and that's that.'

  His word is law. Jane had to smile at this, although the smile held no humour. Scott able to dictate—Scott whom she had despised because of his docility.

  'Well, here we are. I hope you'll like your sur­roundings.' Scott's cool unemotional voice broke into her reflections and she turned her head.

  'It's a beautiful house,' she responded, the eagerness in her tones escaping unbidden. 'You must be very proud to own it.'

  He said nothing, and as he brought the car to a standstill she had the impression that a sudden bit­terness had entered into him. But the impression died instantly and she was looking into a smiling face as he opened the car door for her to alight. The smile was unusual, for no tinge of sarcasm or cynicism was dis­played in it.

  'The previous owners lived in grand style,' he said at last as they entered the house through an impressive doorway flanked by fluted pillars of gleaming white coral stone. 'I'm afraid I prefer to live more simply. Parties and barbecues are all right in moderation, but the aimless round of pleasure that is in effect merely an escape from boredom is not necessary with me. I have my work, and certain other pleasures,' he added in a strangely subtle tone that caused her to stare at him and blush a little. His fine lips curved; the smoky blue eyes came alight with humour, evoking memories for Jane which stimulated emotions that had previously lain half-dormant.

  'Yes,' he said after a long silent moment, 'I have other pleasures which are far more enjoyable than parties and the rest.'

  Jane turned away. An innocent man she had had no time for… but now Scott was a rake, and she was filled with regret that the transformation had been so complete.

  'Is this where I shall work?' she was asking a few minutes later when Scott had opened the door of a medium-sized room that had been fitted out with a desk and all the necessary equipment of an office. 'It's lovely!' Uninvited, she entered and crossed to the window. 'The view, Scott! I shan't be able to get any work done!' She was no longer his employee, but the spontaneous girl he had once known, and with whom he had fallen madly in love. She turned to him; he had followed her into the room and he was now by the desk, his eyes holding an unfathomable expression in their depths. She averted her head, unable somehow to hold his gaze. He drew closer; she was conscious of his nearness, of the elusive scent of soap on his hands as he spread them on asking if the equipment was to her liking. She murmured 'yes' and another silence followed, profound intense, all-enveloping. Jane had the sensation that she had entered a trap… no, that she had been lured into a trap, and that from this very moment she would be fighting to escape. She blinked, dazed by this absurd idea. The long lashes cast shadows on to her cheeks and as she watched something moved spasmodically in her companion's throat. The next moment he was the aloof and rather superior employer.

  'Your hours will be from nine till five,' he informed her. 'As for salary—we'll discuss that later. You and your husband now have a joint salary, so obviously this will have
to be separated. Your husband will have his and you yours.'

  She nodded.

  'When do you want me to start?'

  'Monday. You can use one of the hotel taxis. Later perhaps you might like to have your own car?'

  'I had thought of that.'

  'You'll need some advice if you're going to buy a secondhand vehicle. I'll look it over for you when you've found something.'

  Was he concerned for her safety? she wondered, strangely happy at the notion.

  'Are you taking me back now?' she was asking as after leaving the room he took her along the hall with its impressive staircase, to the front verandah.

  'Yes. There's nothing else to talk about at present. I shan't be here when you come on Monday morning, but you'll find several letters on your desk. Type them out while you're waiting. I'll be back about eleven o'clock.'

  'You're going away for the week-end?' The question was out before she realized she had no right to ask it and she bit her lip as his brows lifted.

  'That,' he said softly, 'is my business.'

  'I'm sorry.'

  'Your morning coffee will be brought to you by Polly—I've inherited her from the previous owners, along with most of the other servants. Polly will make your coffee at whatever time you require it.'

  'Thank you,' said Jane, feeling awkward now that Scott's manner had become brisk and business­like.

  'Is there anything you would care to ask me?'

  She shook her head.

  'I can't think of anything at the moment.'

  'In that case I'll take you back to Coral Gables.'

  He drove the car in a circle before getting back on to the drive, and Jane gasped inwardly at the spectacle she had of the gardens. Exotic flowers abounded, ex­uding sweet perfumes. Flames of crimson marked the lovely flamboyant tree; the frangipanis glowed, pink and white, their heady fragrance mingling deliciously with that of the other tropical flowers. The weeping willow type branches of the red bottle-brush tree were ablaze with scarlet tassels; golden shower and cape myrtle, oleanders and flame of the forest flowered beside the mahoganies and tamarinds and the graceful casuarinas.